In January, the sky over Kansas City is high and far, with an ice-blue expanse tinged with a faint smoky gray, emitting a sense of chill.
This winter is particularly cold, seemingly endless.
Reaching out with fingertips to touch the sunlight, a shallow heat dances at the fingertips, but no matter how far the stretch, it still can't touch the clouds in front.
So, fingers are drawn back, leaving the index finger to delicately trace the shape of the clouds, using the sky as a canvas, the finger as a brush, sketching out a majestic picture in the mind, sensing the faint warmth of the golden sunlight falling when squinting eyes.
"Hey, Felix, Happy New Year."
"Another new year, time flies so fast, it seems I haven't had a chance to catch my breath, and it's already the New Year."
"The weather is really nice today, good for running, training, and playing football."
